


Salt and Counsel

by Megalodont



Category: Love Never Dies - Lloyd Webber, The Phantom of Manhattan - Frederick Forsyth
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Deviates From Canon, F/M, French Characters, Italian Character(s), Multi, Retirement, Singing, Teaching, Training
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 05:10:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9163612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megalodont/pseuds/Megalodont
Summary: "I assure you, signora, no harm will come to her while she is here. " The man replied."You say this as though you are not the man who murdered my husband, who murdered her father." Carlotta scowled."A tragic accident-""Accident my ass, you murdered him! And now you to seek to destroy the life I have once again built for myself and my daughter all because I was the only woman in that opera house who could hold a candle to your little prodigy."Carlotta said, striking her palm against the desk between them."What kind of life could you provide for her? I present you with an opportunity, to give your daughter employment and you the chance to better provide for her, her services in exchange for your house. You will never have to pay a cent again on the property and if I find I no longer have a need for her, I will sign the deed to the land and the house over to you."





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of based off of the 1993 film Rigoletto.  
> Because even in the two sequels [Love Never Dies and The Phantom of Manhattan] Carlotta was never mentioned.

The ageing songbird hummed quietly as she trimmed the hair of the young woman in front of her. 

"What do you do for a living, signora?" She asked, dusting some of the blonde locks on the woman's shoulders. 

"I work in Macy's as a Personal Shopper. I used to work in Gimbels as a buyer, but they fired me for shopping at Macy's, so the manager over at Macy's hired me on the spot."The woman explained, meeting her hairdresser's eyes in the mirror.

"What about you? Have you always been a hairdresser?"

The Italian smiled. "I used to be a singer."

No, no, that had been years ago. In gay Paris, she was a star. The Paris Opera House was her home and her place of work, the stage was where she truly came alive. Once she had filled the ears of many adoring fans with her ambient voice. Years ago, how many she could no longer remember, she was known as more than just a woman with scissors. They came in droves to hear her sing, and Ubaldo, her love, her life, stood beside her. 

 _La Carlotta,_ they had once called her. There was no other word to describe the phenomenon that she was. She was their Prima Donna, they  _begged_ her to sing time and time again. She was a star. But those days were long gone. These days, they called her Carlotta Giudicelli, _Mama_ or _The Woman Who Cuts My Hair_ or _Dear Ms Giudicelli, We Regret To Inform You_...Her star had faded with Ubaldo's life and in the amassing years that had passed since his death, the Italian songstress had fell into obscurity. Carlotta's life had been like her wonderous songs and suddenly, she was wrenched from the dream into a cold, harsh reality. The events at the Paris Opera House in 1893 had left the prima donna a widow and by 1894, also a single mother. After the death of her own mother, Carlotta pooled her remaining finances and took her two-year-old daughter Elena across the Atlantic to begin a new life in America.

Oh, it was not pretty at first. All they could afford to rent was a one room rundown shack on the outskirts of Brooklyn. At that time, they barely had money for food or rent and Carlotta was terrified someone would take her daughter. However, luck smiled on her when her daughter turned three. A Salon in Manhattan was looking for a new hairdresser and Carlotta decided to try her hand at it. Thanks to her years in theatre, she was a smashing success and socialites from all over New York came to have their hair styled by Ms Giudicelli.  When her little girl was old enough, Carlotta enrolled her in a school for dramatic arts with absolute pride. Carlotta had kept her past a secret from Elena for thirteen years, hoping to avoid any further pain. Whenever Elena had asked where her father was, Carlotta had simply said he died when they were coming over from France.  Anything that had been part of her former life had been taken out of her life, as Carlotta was, at heart, nothing more than a superstitious Italian and believed it might jinx Elena. 

"Mama! Mama!" Carlotta was jarred out of her reverie as her fifteen-year-old daughter bounded into the salon.

"Yes, dear. What is it?" She asked, her eyes boggling as [Elena](http://68.media.tumblr.com/e117185d2474fb8dfbdfe85244565825/tumblr_mwyi80kSNL1scurlpo1_250.gif) stuffed a letter in her hand.

"It's from Mr Piachi! He said to deliver it to you immediately," Carlotta smiled. "Thank you, dear." She said, kissing her temple.

"I'm going to Serena's for dinner, is that alright, mama?" Elena asked.

"Of course, dear." 

After being released from work for the day, Carlotta said underneath a street lamp and tore the envelope open. 

_Dear Ms Giudicelli,_

_Due to personal financial troubles of my own, I am afraid I have had to foreclose on the mortgage on your home. This arrangement does not affect you as far as I can see, besides a possible raise in rent in a few months. The property has been purchased by the E. M. Corporation C.E.O and any questions should be directed them. Enclosed is the business card of the representative I spoke with and with whom you may get in touch with if you require any services._

_Signed,_

_Adamo Piachi_

 

A very different letter was slid into the mail slot the next morning, however. Carlotta had just gotten up to wake Elena for school and had picked up the pile of bills and flyers, setting them on the kitchen table. 

"Elena, if I have to call you again, I'm going to get the water pitcher," Carlotta called, turning the stove on. She whisked the eggs and set the frying pan on the burner. She poured the eggs in and while they cooked, Carlotta took a moment to open her mail. First, her electric bill, saying they would be expecting her thirty-six cent payment next week. Then the milkman, asking for his six cent payment by Friday. The gas company, twenty-five cents was owed. Once Carlotta opened the last letter, her breath caught in her throat.

It was an eviction notice.

* * *

It was Carlotta's day off and she stormed off to E. M tower to demand an explanation. 

"I want to speak to the owner."

"Madam, I'm afraid,"

"No, don't give me that! I demand to see him  _now_!" She barked, slamming her hand on the desk. 

"Madam, I'll have to call security,"

"He's lucky I don't call the police! He has no right to kick me out of my home!" Carlotta shouted. 

"Oh, you're.... Hold on, I'll see if he'll speak to you." The man said, before pulling on a lever. "Mr Mulheim, there's a woman here to see you." There was a quiet mumbling noise on the other end before the man replied "She says you kicked her out of her house. Ma'am, your name?"

"Carlotta Giudicelli." She scowled. 

"Carlotta Giudicelli." He repeated. There was more mumbling before the guard replied,"His representative will meet you on the thirty-ninth floor." Carlotta rolled her eyes and entered the lift. 

As they reached the top floor, Carlotta's seething rage quelled. This was obviously a very powerful man and she was no longer the renowned diva she had once been. She thought maybe it would be best to appeal to a different facet of this man. It was common knowledge that this man had a teenage son, maybe she could appeal to his parental side? As she strutted into the office, a dark haired man stepped in front of her.

"Ms Giudicelli, this is as far as you come." He said, causing Carlotta to roll her eyes.

"Out of my way, you stupid little man." She snapped shoving him out of the way. 

"Ma'am, you can't"

"Don't tell me what I can't do." She barked, throwing the door to a slightly darkened room open. 

"Ms Giudicelli"

"Don't Ms me. How dare you put me and my daughter on the street, you heartless heathen!" She couldn't help it, She was angry.

"Ms Giudicelli! I insist you take a seat before you begin your tirade," The man said, his face still not visible to her. Carlotta composed herself with an inhale, before taking a seat.

"What reason was behind this?" She asked, sliding the notice across the table. He picked up the paper and examined it for a moment. 

"Your house is on the land I need for my new venture. Surely, you understand"

"No, I do not understand. You would see me and my daughter on the street because you can't live without a little bit of money. You greedy, selfish"

"Enough!" Suddenly, the voice was starting to sound familiar to her.

"Please, Signor. I will do anything. Please, my daughter-"

"Anything, you say?" He cut her off again. Carlotta was stumped by this.

"Depending on what it is." 

"I find myself in need of a maid at the present time."

"I'll have to work around my-"

"Not you, Ms Giudicelli." In that moment, she realized where she had heard that voice before. Her mouth fell open,and she slid the chair back.

"You! I know who you are! You are the opera ghost from Paris!" This was met with a chuckle.

"I wondered when you would realize that."

"I will not let my daughter anywhere near you, you beast!"

"I assure you, signora, no harm will come to her while she is here. " The man replied.  
"You say this as though you are not the man who murdered my husband, who murdered her father." Carlotta scowled.  
"A tragic accident-"  
"Accident my ass, you murdered him! And now you to seek to destroy the life I have once again built for myself and my daughter all because I was the only woman in that opera house who could hold a candle to your little prodigy."Carlotta said, striking her palm against the desk between them.  
"What kind of life could you provide for her? I present you with an opportunity, to give your daughter employment and you the chance to better provide for her, her services in exchange for your house. You will never have to pay a cent again on the property and if I find I no longer have a need for her, I will sign the deed to the land and the house over to you." This caught Carlotta off guard.

"If you so much as lay a finger on her"

"I can assure you, she will be perfectly safe."

"I want that in writing." Carlotta announced.

 


End file.
